New Horizons
by IronCrest
Summary: On the road to becoming an Olympic athlete, Kim and her family move to La Push to start a new life. However, as life in the small town starts to unfurl, things keep getting weirder and weirder. Can a certain wolf save Kim from herself or maybe even from something far worse?
1. Chapter 1

N.B. I'm sorry. The first chapter might seem a bit long, but I promise that it'll speed up as the story gets going. But for now, enjoy! :)

Chapter One

Then

_A sudden gust of wind slices through my insides, and my entire body convulses with a shiver. Gradually, the cheering from the crowd dies down to a stark silence, and the only sound is that of my heart pounding against my chest. I drag my eyes away from feet and pull my gaze upward. But I do not look at the crowd. I do not search for the faces of my family, my competitors, or even my coach's. I do not even look at the translucent, chlorine-filled water that almost begs to engulf me. They are all inevitable, and I would always face them. Gravity demanded it, and life proclaimed it. So, instead, I look straight up into the air, into a large skylight directly above me, and stand still for a moment, watching the expanse of clouds climbing higher and higher and higher until it all meshes into blueness. _

_ My coach's voice rings in my ears. "Push up," he had instructed me during yesterday's training session, "Defy gravity. Even feathers come down, but be like them. Make a hell of a time doing it." I nod my head as if I was answering him right now. I am ready. My lungs instinctively expand, I close my eyes, extend my arms up into the air, and jump backwards into a ten meter drop. _

_Now_

My mother's voice cuts through my thoughts. _"_Kim are you even listening to us? What are you thinking about so intently?"

I quickly look up to see how many people had noticed my daze, but luckily, the other guests are busy chatting. We're all siting in the living room, which is so large compared to our condo that it seems like a house in itself. My mother had jumped at the chance to throw a housewarming party, and it's just she and Mrs. Nakamura, a lady who lives a few blocks down, who seemed to have been bothered.

"Oh, sorry. I'm just a little tired." I reply sheepishly, awkwardly playing with my hands.

Mrs. Nakamura smiles understandingly. "Moving's always stressful, and you just got here a couple of days ago. Anyway, what I have to say isn't too important. I was just asking your mother here what grade you'll be going into this year."

I smile. This woman is really nice. And, like almost everyone else around here, she bears an uncanny resemblance to my mother, who also has the dark hair and tanned skin characteristic of the Quileutes. She might have mentioned it once when I was little, but honestly, I don't remember much.

"I'll be a junior," I say, and this, for some reason, seems to delight her.

"Ah, that works out well. My son will be a senior this year. I'm sure you'll see each other when you start school in a couple of weeks. You'll fit right in here."

I nod my head in acknowledgement, and silently pray to my self. I really do hope so.

_Then_

_ I spend more time than I need to in the locker room. I hear the chatter and laughter of the other girls slowly die away as they begin to leave to go celebrate with their families. The ones who had shed tears had finished some time ago, put their disappointment behind them, and even begin planning for the next meet. _

_ I stay in the shower for a long time, my bathing suit still on, letting the stream of water fall on my head. My fingers periodically close around a piece of cheap metal probably painted gold that hangs around my neck, just to make sure that it is there, that I wasn't imagining things. A grin slowly breaks onto my face. First Place. I had just won first place. _

_ By the time I come out of the locker room, the stands are barren and there is no sound in the stadium but for a few muffled voices coming from a nearby office room. I sling my duffel bag over my shoulder begin walking towards it, not knowing where else to go. _

_ As I get closer, I begin to discern a man's voice. It is raw and peremptory. A fist slams against a table, and I then recognize my mother's voice. _

_ "Of course we wouldn't be as stupid to do that. She's our child for Christ's sake. But we won't forgo this opportunity either. If she agrees, we're going for it."_

_ I peer through the window. A man in a suit and tie with mousy hair and slightly tanned skin leans against a desk addressing my parents who sit alongside my coach in small plush chairs. My coach opens his mouth and starts to say something, but he catches sight of my face reflecting off of the glass. My stomach churns as he beckons me inside. I can almost feel the medal burning a hole through my chest. _

_ They all look at me expectantly, as if they were waiting for me to say something first. I start to grow angry, for no one has congratulated me since I'd won. My insides start to grow empty. What if I had done something wrong?_

_ My coach once again opens his mouth, but my father is the first one to speak. _

_ "Kim," he says, his eyes piercing mine, "do you feel serious about diving?" My heart skips a beat. I think I know where this is leading to, but I don't want to jump the gun._

_ "Of course," I reply, my voice sounding a lot more confident than I am. "I've always been" My mother smile at the man as if to say "See, I told you so.", but my coach's face remains expressionless. Instead, he keeps on studying my face. _

_ The man addresses me now, "Then, what would you say to training for the Olympics in platform diving?" My eyes bug open, and I feel weightless, the kind of feeling that unhinges you from reality and feeds off of daydreams. The images are fuzzy, but they are there nevertheless. I see myself, tall and confident, projected all over television screens garbed in a suit bearing the letters U.S.A. For once I feel proud, excited, and strangely at home, even in front of a hypothetical image. _

_ I look at my coach, expecting him to be beaming, but the only thing on his face is a sad, knowing smile. A pang hits my stomach as memories resurface: my first swimming lesson, my first competition, the endless hours of conditioning, eating dinner at his house, his constant encouragement, the warmth that always seemed to surround him. This was it then, I think. This is the moment where it all ends. I lift my head up to ask the dreaded question._

_ "And I would be training with..."_

_ "My staff and I will be instructing you throughout the course of your training." he replies. I turn to face my parents._

_ "And then I'd see Coach Rob on..."_

_ My mom shakes her head sadly, "That's the thing we've been trying to tell you, honey. They want us to move out of the city to a small town called La Push. It's not more than a few miles away, and it has one of the best training facilities. It'll be exactly what you need." _

_ Then, the thing that I've managed to hold up with a few strings snaps and comes crashing down on me. It almost seems as if my parents had betrayed me. The looks on their faces suggest that they had not the slightest qualms about leaving my coach after nearly a decade of service. I want to cry, but I know that this is not the time for it._

_ "Are we going to do it? I mean move?" I ask, not knowing what else to say. _

_ "If you want this. We'd do anything," my father says, and the man nods in approval. I make a final attempt._

_ "Are you sure that I'm ready?" _

_ This time, my coach looks directly at me and answers, "More than you'll ever be."_

_ We look at each other for a bit, and I nod. I stand there while papers are being passed and numbers exchanged. When it is time to leave, my father claps a hand around my shoulder and whispers in my ear, "We are so proud of you, Kimmie."_

_Now_

"Well, Jim and I will stay at the condo when we have late nights."

"What about Kim? She's welcome to spend the night with us anytime she wants to." Yes, what about Kim? And what condo? Mrs. Nakamura looks at me with a concerned expression. I shoot my mother a look, and she looks guiltily back.

"You never sold it did you?" I ask, my tone accusatory.

"Kim, you don't have to be angry. All the realtors we'd tried to hire wanted to sell it at ridiculously low prices. Besides, your father and I work in the city. It would be hard on us to constantly be driving back and forth," my mother explains. But I'm still angry. I feel betrayed.

"And all of that stuff that you made me sell because you said I wouldn't need them here, my books, my movies, my clothes. What was that all about? So that you and Dad can have an 'exclusive' residence. Even that's beside the point. You didn't even tell me." I don't yell, so no one really pays attention to me other than my mom and Mrs. Nakamura. But I can't let this one go. This was too much. I stand up quietly and look directly at my mom.

"I'm going to my room. Don't bother coming up."

_Then_

_ The night is sable but for a tiny sliver of the moon visible in the sky. Despite siting on my bedroom floor of our condo, I can almost feel the warm summer air and light patter of rain. It is the fourth night in a row that it has been raining. The grass that is yellow and parched in other parts of the country is lush and green over here. I smile to myself. Where else but Seattle? _

_ Now, as the last notes of Owl City's "Hello Seattle" play from my iPod, I start to come to terms with the extent of my patheticness. Tomorrow morning, we'd be leaving for good, and given two and a half months to come to terms with it, I choose to feel it all on the last day. Anyway, it couldn't possibly be that bad. La Push is less than an hours drive away. I could come back here as frequently as I would want. _

_ But still, despite knowing that, I feel like a part of me is about to die. My childhood and all of my memories would just be one step farther from my grasp. Not only will they slip away from my hands with time, but also with the distance. _

_ Looking at my barren room, the walls stripped of their posters and drawings, the furniture cleared but for a stack of boxes in the corner, I begin to feel utterly alone. My parents are asleep in the other room, only a couple of yards away, but when they're together, enjoying each other's company, they seem universes away from me. I shake my head. "Kim, you're sixteen. Get a grip on yourself."_

_ I finally manage to do it, the whole getting a grip on myself thing, but then, I can't stop thinking about how normal teenagers dealt with moves like this. When I say normal teenagers, I mean the people who don't have daily five hour training sessions, who go to parties, invest in their social lives, and actually have close friends. Would they have it worse than I do? It had always seemed to me that they belonged here more than I did. One person's life was so ingrained in another's that it was almost imperceptible, whose was whose. If someone were to just disappear, they would leave behind a gaping hole. I start to think about it some more. I didn't have many friends. I was practically invisible. No one ever managed to unmask the real Kim. When I leave, how big will my hole be? _

_ I don't know why I do it, but I feel as if it is something that I have to find out- whether I'll be missed or not. After the initial break of news, talk about the move had died down among my friends. They had all told me that they'd miss me, but no one had said goodbye yet. From impulse, or perhaps even desperation, I pick up my phone and dial Megan's number. Out of everyone, she is the one that had always seemed the closest._

_ She picks up after a few rings._

_ "Kim?"_

_ "Hi... I-I just wanted to-"_

_ "Kim, you know it's two in the morning right? Everyone's asleep."_

_ "I'm leaving in six hours."_

_ "I know."_

_ "I just want to say goodbye."_

_ "Oh, you could have called in the morning."_

_ "I know. I just figured that we'd be in a hurry- you know, to get everything together."_

_ "Well, I guess it's goodbye then."_

_ "Yeah, I'll miss you."_

_ "Same here. We'll talk later, okay, Kim. Goodnight."_

_ "Bye."_

_ A long dial tone follows, and I feel like crying. My hole wasn't that big after all. _

_ Outside my window, in another building, a light flickers on, and a dog jumps up onto a balcony. I smile in faint recognition. Last summer, he had stayed at out condo when the family had gone to Hawaii for a couple of weeks. He's forgotten me. The family's probably forgotten me too. But I remember them, and I don't know for how long I'll remember them. I just know that it'll be sad when I forget. It seems to always work that way for me, me remembering and everyone else forgetting. Except..._

_ I get an idea and pull my phone out again. It rings three times before a groggy voice answers from the other end._

_ "Hello?"_

_ "Coach Rob? It's Kim. I'm sorry to call at this time, but I really wanted to- I mean I should have- we never said goodbye." There's silence, but soon, he begins talking. _

_ "Oh Kim, you don't know how much I'll miss you kiddo. You were great, you know that. You were always the best one there."_

_ "I'll miss you too- a lot. I promise I'll visit you whenever I can."_

_ "And I'll always be there, Kim."_

_ "Are you- Coach Rob, are you sure I can do this? What if it doesn't work? What if I fail?" The other end falls dead for a few moments._

_ "You read Fahrenheit 451 that one summer right? The book by Ray Bradbury?" I'm puzzled._

_ "Yeah, he just died recently, didn't he?"_

_ "Yes, well, once in an interview, he said, 'You've got to jump off cliffs all the time and build your wings on the way down'. You get what he means?" The quote lingers in my head. The words sound sweet and beautiful, more than just words. They feel like his gift to me, like they were meant only for me. I smile. On such a miserable day, I smile._

_ "Perfectly," I reply. He laughs on the other end, and I can hear his wife snoring beside him. Wow, she really does sleep like a log. _

_Now_

The sun is just starting to set and from my window, I can see the first flames of the bonfire rising into the air. Even from all the way over here, I can hear the shrieks and carefree laughter that comes from the beach. I count with my fingers trying to remember. It's been five days, five days of endless partying and bonfires every night since I had come here. I smile to myself. I might actually like these natives after all.

My short-lived smile immediately wipes itself off of my face when a loud crash sounds from downstairs. I hear my mother's footsteps frantically scurrying somewhere.

"I am so sorry. Here, just give it here, I'll take care of it," she says loudly. I can imagine everyone watching the scene play out downstairs. I just feel frustrated, and scenes from Fahrenheit 451 flicker into my mind. I remember Guy Montag's wife, Mildred, how she used to talk to walls, how she tried to kill herself and didn't even know it. I think of myself, and my own parlor walls. Except, instead of being walls, they are actually people. And instead of being Mildred, I feel like Guy Montag, watching all of the Mildreds mindlessly enjoy themselves downstairs. I feel trapped, chained inside of my own life, my parent's lives. Downstairs, there is nothing I'm interested in. No one is even close to my age, yet I am forced to be there, so that my parents can show me off as their accomplished daughter to their friends. I'm thankful, definitely, for all that my parents have done for me, but at the same time, I want to live my own life. I want to see for myself what the world has to offer, but all I have is an open window and the view of flickering flames in the air.

Tapping my fingers against the window sill, I watch the people on the beach for some time. Suddenly, I get an idea.

_Then_

_ I feel nauseous and sleepy. The lull of the highway puts me in a daze and even my battered copy of Catch-22 fails to keep me awake. Despite the fact that we've only been on the road for forty minutes, it feels like three hours. After we had passed out of the city, the only things to look at were expressways, cars, and signs. Soon, however, we turn into a neat, suburban neighborhood. A washed-up sign bearing the words "Welcome to La Push" passes by, and we start to drive alongside a beach. _

_ That's when I see him. He stands on the edge of a monstrously large cliff hanging over the raucous waves of the ocean. Except for the top coat and ridiculous pose, the image almost looks like it came directly out of Casper Friedrich's "Wander above the Sea of Fog." _

_ He stands bare-chested, and his upper body is lean and chiseled. A pair of dark, stone-washed cut-offs hang dangerously low on his hips. He is barefoot, and his fingers are balled into fists at his side. His face, or what I can discern from the distance, is ruggedly handsome, with dark, sharp features. _

_ I can't take my eyes off of him, and I just keep staring and staring, turning around in the car as we start to drive past him. Then, all of a sudden, he throws his arms into the air, and flings himself off of the cliff, diving headfirst into the water. As I watch, a shudder passes through my body. _

_Now_

It's incredibly stupid. Honestly, it's one of the stupidest things I've ever done, or probably ever will do. I'm an idiot. I'm an absolute, complete idiot.

My hands clutch the downspout tightly as the rest of my body hangs off the roof. Underneath a thin coverup, I'm dressed in a blue bathing suit. Slowly, my sandals slip off my feet and softly thump onto the grown. My arms are shaking and muscles begin to ache. One step at a time, I inch myself across the roof, the downspout guiding my hands.

My foot hits a shingle, and it falls loose, scraping against the wall as it descends. My heart palpitates as my head automatically jerks to my parent's window. No lights turn on and I am relieved. It's nearly eleven o' clock and the guests had already left about an hour ago. There was no one left to catch me.

Finally, I reach the edge of the house, where the downspout runs steeply downward like a fireman's pole. I wrap my legs around it and slowly slide down until my feet hit the moist grass. Then, I grab my sandals and run.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As I step onto the beach, the last remnants of my adrenaline extinguish, and I am left suddenly apprehensive and regretful. What if this turned into a drug-fest, or maybe even a gang rave? I am a complete stranger to this town. What if I wasn't invited?

I think of my parents, both lawyers, working daily twelve hour shifts and not even being able to come home everyday. This is what their daughter does behind their backs.

But thoughts of my old life come back to me, and I remember my loneliness, my isolation, and my robotic personality. Were the expectations of my parents that demanding as to sacrifice a part of my own life? I want to live. I want to breathe freely and see the world for what it is.

Around me, everyone seems to be doing just that. The beach is ten times more picturesque up close and my eyes feast in the sight. The bonfire sits in the middle of the sand in between two opposite shacks. Its embers dance around the few people who chose to remain on the logs, talking and roasting marshmallows. They laugh in the most carefree manner, a few with their arms around one another, cuddling and kissing every once in a while. I stand on the edge of beach, far from the fire, just watching, and yet I feel an odd sort of warmth pervade my insides. This is home.

A couple yards away, there is a volleyball game taking place. Girls and guys play together, wearing bikinis and swim trunks, sometimes "accidentally" bumping each other. As I watch their tall, slender bodies bending and running for the ball, I catch sight of _him_ again. This time, he's got a grin on his face. His limbs move with a swiftness that no one else in the game seems to possess, his muscles pronounced and powerful. My eyes stay plastered upon him as he scores point after point after point.

Then, a boy from the other team punts the ball high into the air so that it comes down at a dangerous speed almost directly on top of a girl. She squeals and barely jumps out of the way, but it's too late. The ball has already spiraled out of the court and heads in my direction. Within seconds, I manage to catch it.

I hold the ball in my hands, turning sideways a few times, unsure of what to do with it. I hear footsteps tread toward me from the court, and it's _him_, waving his arms back and forth at me.

"Over here!" he shouts, his voice unexpectedly deep and strong, yet, at the same time, retaining a boyish quality to it. I look at his eyes, and they look back at me like they would to any other person. So I toss the ball back to him, and swiftly catching it, he jogs back to the game.

I stand there dumbstruck, just watching him. I shake my head. What was this? What was it about him that made me feel so weird? I'd had crushes back in Seattle, never a boyfriend, but some people, I was definitely attracted to. But this, this was a feeling that was altogether foreign to me. I literally could not breathe in his presence.

_Kim, what's wrong with you?_ I ask myself, frustrated. I decide to get away from him in order to clear my mind, and I spot a small shack on the other side of the bonfire. Several people hang around by it, a few of them in line. I pull out a few dollars from my pocket and join them.

"What'll it be then? Just to let you know, we just ran out of vodka," the man at the counter tells me when it's my turn. I scan the menu quickly and most of its contents are unfamiliar, even kind of scary. I spend a couple of seconds deciding until I finally decide on a beer.

"Oh, umm, I'll just have a-"

"Two beers please," interrupts a voice from behind me. I spin around and nearly collide into the same boy who had punted that ball. He's attractive, and his smile widens when he catches sight of my face.

"Don't worry," he says, winking, "it's on me." He takes the drinks from the counter and hands one to me, signaling with his head to follow me. I walk beside him and take a small sip of the beer. It's sour, and my nose crinkles in disgust. The boy watches me.

"First time?" he asks, "I'm Embry by the way." He leads me to the bonfire, and we sit down on a log.

"Yup," I say, unsure of myself, "I'm Kim." Embry smiles and holds out his hand theatrically. I put mine in it.

"Well, nice to meet you, Kim," he says, shaking my hand, "I don't think I've seen you around here. Are you new?"

"Yeah, we just moved here on Monday from Seattle." He studies me for a second.

"Really, I could have sworn that you looked native."

"My mother's Quileute. My father's English. They met while they were both studying in Cambridge," I explain to him. How else do you explain blue eyes and black hair?

"Sweet. I for one am a purebred. So are most of the people here," he pauses and looks out over the fire, raising his hands above his head, "Bro! Over here!"

Tall figures approach us, three guys and three girls. _He's_ among them, talking to a pretty blonde girl hanging from his arm. They all sit down on logs next to us, and a dark skinned girl starts talking.

"Embry, you idiot, why'd you leave? You missed John take in fifteen shots. The moron collapsed right on top of the net and sent it crashing." I look over to the court, and like she said, there is a guy lying prostrate on the ground, tangled in the volleyball net. A few people try to help him up, but most just stand around and laugh. He looks pathetic and distraught, and I can't help but feel bad for him.

Embry laughs, "John? You mean the guy with the football record? Why the hell would he do something like that?"

This time, the blonde girl answers, "I told him that I'd sleep with him if he'd do it."

Embry lets out a hoot, "That, my friend, was fucking brilliant." The girl shakes her head and puts her head on _his _shoulder. He nuzzles her head.

"Tell that to Jared. He's the one who told me to do it." _Jared_. The name sounds nice as it rings through my head. I look at him, and he just shrugs his shoulders.

"Who could resist?" he says nonchalantly. One of the larger guys finally notices me.

"Who's your pretty friend, Embry? Care to introduce us?" he asks, his voice in a sneer. I feel everyone's eyes on me and my face starts to turn pink. I can feel _his _more that the rest of them.

Luckily, the flames obscure my face, so I just smile and say, "Kim, just got here a couple of days ago from Seattle."

"Welcome to La Push, Kim. My first word of advice- stay away from Paul here. I'm sure he's just dying to get into your pants," the dark haired girl replies, giving Paul, the guy who had asked about me, a dirty look. I feel uncomfortable, not knowing how to respond, but luckily, the blonde rescues me.

"This party blows. The people here are either too high or too stupid to do anything fun."

A petite girl who hasn't spoken yet pulls out a pack of cards from her pocket and holds it tantalizingly up in the air.

"You know," she almost purrs, eying Embry like a piece of meat, "we haven't tried strip poker yet." Hoots and whistles fill the air.

I hear the dark-haired girl's voice ring over the shouts, "Something tells me to keep an eye on your little sister, Jared!" Everyone laughs except for the blonde.

"I have an idea," she finally says as the noise dies down, her voice low and excited. "Let's play hide-and-seek. Up there." Silence follows as she points diagonally upward. We all look toward her finger, up toward where the dark, dense forest hangs off of the tall cliffs. The area looks frightening and remote. It's nearly a mile away. Who knows what kinds of animals live there.

"Girls against guys. Whoever finds you gets to kidnap you for twenty minutes. Sound good?" Grins break out and people start nodding.

Embry's the first to get up, "Come on then! Let's go." Everyone gets up and starts to follow him. I'm the last person to rise and linger around the bonfire, looking back and forth from the beach to the forest.

"Kim," someone finally says, "are you up for it?" I look up into the blackness of the forest. Am I?


End file.
